The Culprit and The Cure
by Miharu is Harukas Love Child 2
Summary: Drabble fic. Matt is jealous of Mello's intimacy with Halle. Matt POV


The Culprit and The Cure (originally posted on my old profile Miharu is Haruka's Love Child)

A/N: Just to be clear…Halle is actually one of my fave of the female characters in Death Note…I just have a habit of writing very bad things about her. XD

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Some people just really get grate my nerves. Like certain trigger-happy blonds. Like certain trigger-happy blonds that fuck with random big-breasted blonde women who work for Near.

That skin is no longer mine alone. She touched it. She tainted my beautiful image with her fingers and her filthy body.

Mello was supposed to be untouchable.

He was supposed to be _mine._

She is standing in my place. She is lying in my place. Next to him, where _I'm _supposed to be. Where I've been forever. She knows nothing about what he's really like. All she can see is that outward exterior…the mental armor that he wears. The cold, the calculating. She only knows _cool _Mello.

Has she ever held him when he's throwing a tantrum in frustration? Huh? Bet she wouldn't find him so sexy then. She knows nothing.

_Understanding him is as natural as breathing. _But only to me. Not her. Not her. Oh God why did she have to touch him? Holding him…laughing with him…breaking things with him…these are the natural things I've grown to love. She can't have that. Never. I won't let her!

And yet…_yet!_ she comes in and takes my place, wiping out all my work. Years of effort, _wasted!_

She's high and mighty, just like him, putting on airs like she owns the world. Maybe she does, if she has Mello. I hate her. I hate her. I just hate her. What's so special about that woman…her face is too angular, her eyes too round, her breasts too large, her voice too shrill. She doesn't match him at all. And she's shallow.

But he's always been fickle.

And cruel.

Well…unintentionally cruel. I don't want to believe that he'd ever hurt me intentionally. Even if he does.

He…gives me every mixed signal under the sun. Just…just giving me hope that we could be something more than what we are…always giving me hope…and then backing away. He's always been that way. He'll make me believe in a dream and laugh at me for not living in reality. Sometimes I pretend that he isn't stringing me along in some twisted game of his. Sometimes I pretend that those little glances, those little touches…that they actually mean something.

But…

_She's there_, in my place. At his side. Getting all the attention that should be mine. And I know…I hate her. I hate because…deep down I want what she has. As much as I love him, when he's beside me…he's only there with his physicality. His mind is always elsewhere. It always has been. And yet when I see him beside her, there's this connection…this invisible wall of communication that I can't seem to pass through…as if she belongs and I don't. She has something I just can't seem to obtain, no matter how hard I try.

I.

Can't.

Compete.

But I hope…I hope to God that neither can she.

I may not be apart of the world that encompasses Mello and all his enigma, but perhaps neither is she. Perhaps Mello is _really _untouchable. Perhaps the only thing that can truly penetrate that wall is the capacity to reach greater heights. Ambition itself.

I don't understand how he can be with her, because they are like oil and water.

She has everything that I do not, and not even I can ignore that she is winning…

So why am I still here. Why are both Halle and I living on the ends of puppet strings? Why do we throw ourselves at the destructive tempest Mello creates?

I suppose I enjoy it? Perhaps I even enjoy hating her?

I think I transcended just loving him. I think I'm in a spiraling lifestyle that requires me to punish myself this way.

What does that tell you about me? There is only distance around Mello. She thinks he is hers, but that is an illusion as well. Just like Mello is an illusion. We've cloaked our realities with elusive dreams of grandeur.

If I were as cold…as apathetic as I've heard some describe…then why would I give a damn? It's not like I think I could have him…in fact…I'd probably never be able to live with myself if I _could have him_. Mello is the very definition of impossible. If I could hold that essence in my hands, it would be like reaching the end of the race when all I want to do is run until I die.

_I'm the only one who understands him completely_.

I even understand why I'm not at his side. Knowing, understanding, cognizing the reasons why I was not chosen…none of that shit takes these feelings…I hate him, I do. Except that I can't seem to hate him more than I am obsessed with loving him and chasing after that unattainable goal.

Call it…a reason to exist.

Every man needs a reason.


End file.
